AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I think some people haven't gotten around to reading what I posted yesterday, so please be sure to read the last chapter first.

I hope you enjoy! Don't forget to let me know what you think!

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Daryl's body was heavy and his eyes burned. He walked through the house with Dale at his back, surprised at how much he appreciated nothing more than the fact that the man was making the simple gesture of "having" his back. The stairs seemed innumerable, and Daryl's feet felt heavy as he struggled to climb them. Upstairs, a hand on his shoulder steered him toward the bathroom, and Jo met him, coming out of the bathroom. She smiled at him.

"I've put a washrag, a clean towel, and something clean for you to wear from the clothes that had been washed and weren't brought up yet. Leave your dirty clothes in the basket."

"Andrea…"

"She's fine. We'll talk when you've washed up."

The farmhouse was a simple and cozy farmhouse, but it was very large. It was the kind that was built in anticipation of a large farm-family overflowing its spaces. The bathrooms were located around the perimeter of the house. Daryl assumed this was either because they were added in after the house had originally been built—or else they were built that way so that any number of the anticipated abundant family members could easily have access to them without disturbing anyone else.

Daryl stripped off his clothes and took what Merle would have called a whore-bath with the washrag. He was too tired to shower again, and he wouldn't have been dirty at all if someone hadn't dragged his ass through the red Georgia dirt.

With the majority of the dirt and dust washed off of him, Daryl dressed in the clean clothes provided for him—the clothes he would wear to the bedroom. He dropped his clothes in the basket in the corner of the little bathroom, and he stepped out. Dale was there, waiting and standing sentinel.

Jo was there, too, her arms folded across her chest.

She had to be tired, too. Since they'd come, there had been nothing but chaos for her—nothing but tending those who weren't even her family. Her husband, Hershel, must be tired, too. He'd been fighting to save Carl's life, and Daryl wasn't sure if anyone standing vigil for Carl had shown any concern for the life and well-being of the old man.

Still, tired or not, the old woman smiled at Daryl when he stepped out of the bathroom.

"Your wife and daughter are both still sleeping," she said. "I was going to bring them something to eat, but I thought that the rest was more important for now. There will be food tomorrow."

Daryl nodded.

"Thanks," he said. "Andrea…where is she?"

Jo gestured to one of the bedroom doors along the upstairs hallway. The house, now, was probably as close to being full as it had ever been—at least within the lifetimes of the two who owned it now, since Daryl didn't know exactly how old it was. They had clearly intended to have a much larger family than they had, and many of the rooms had evidently been empty for years.

Daryl walked around Jo and headed for the room. She caught him, her hand on his shoulder.

"She's resting," Jo said. "You should really let her have her rest."

"All due respect," Daryl said, sincerely meaning the turn of phrase, "but—I gotta see her."

Jo renewed her smile and nodded.

"Don't wake her? I gave her some warm chamomile tea and milk," Jo said. "She's going to be fine. She was exhausted. The same as everyone, it seems."

"I won't wake her," Daryl said. "But—just the same…"

Jo didn't stop him when he touched the knob and stepped into the dimly lit bedroom. The only light was a small lamp in the corner. Daryl walked quietly to the bed. Andrea was asleep. She looked better than she had downstairs—the last time he'd seen her. Even in the dim light, he could tell there was more color in her face. She'd looked practically ashen before. Daryl pulled the blanket up over her shoulder, gently, and smoothed it. She didn't stir. Satisfied that she was sleeping and nothing more, Daryl stepped out of the room and closed the door quietly behind him.

Dale and Jo were both waiting for him in the hallway.

"Nobody gets her blood," Daryl said. "Nobody. Not a damn drop. I ain't tryin' to be an asshole, and I ain't tryin' to get my ass thrown outside again, but you can quote me on this. I'ma take blood, my way, from any damn body that gets it in their head to take it from her."

Daryl felt Dale patting him on the shoulder. Jo simply smiled at him. She didn't flinch, and she didn't seem bothered by what he'd said. Perhaps, she wasn't the one behind having him dragged outside of her home by his throat.

"She'll be fine," Jo assured him. "I'll keep an eye on her tonight, just as if she were one of my girls. You have my word. There's no need to worry. Nobody meant for her to be harmed in any way, and nobody will be suggesting she donate again for quite some time. You can rest easy. She's going to be OK. She's in good hands."

"Thanks," Daryl said.

"We'll have that talk tomorrow," Dale said. "Whenever everyone's feeling better. Why don't you get some sleep?"

Daryl nodded. He looked back at Jo.

"If she needs anything…or, hell, just anything…"

"I'll be sure to wake you," Jo said. Daryl nodded and thanked her again.

When Daryl stepped into the bedroom he'd be sharing with Carol and Sophia, he found that a similar lamp was burning there as the one that had been in Andrea's room. In the bed, Sophia was hugging her doll—which Carol had kept safe for her and had slept with every night since she'd been gone—and she slept sprawled in every which direction. He smiled to himself. At her age, people would probably suggest that she was far too old to sleep with her parents. There were times, though, when bad dreams stirred her from her bed. She would, at first, come and get Carol—very quietly, and very nervously—and Carol would slip into her room to sleep for a bit. Daryl had finally suggested, though, that Carol merely stay where she was, raise the blanket, and invite Sophia into the bed.

Two of them, after all, could protect her from her nightmares much more efficiently than one.

Sophia was a bed hog. When she slept, she seemed to spread out to three or four times her size, and Daryl could almost be convinced that she grew extra arms and legs. As she relaxed and spread out, she would push Carol further against Daryl until, many times, Carol and Daryl woke up, laughing, at the fact that the two of them were hovering dangerously close to the edge with Carol practically sleeping on top of Daryl's body.

It was, tonight, one of the most beautiful sights that Daryl had ever seen.

Daryl moved the burning lamp to the bedside table, along with the lighter that had been placed beside it. He shucked his clothes, down to his boxers, and slipped into the bed behind Carol. He blew out the lamp, and then he rolled over and wrapped his arm around his wife, hugging her close to his body.

She moaned and stirred.

"Shhh," Daryl whispered in her ear. "Didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep." He kissed the side of her face and she wriggled her body, rooting back into him. She wrapped her arms around his arms, hugging him.

"You gave me back my baby," she whispered, practically breathing out the words. She rolled, and he moved his arms enough to let her roll to face him. It was dark. He could make out nothing more than her silhouette in the darkness, but it didn't matter. He'd memorized her face. She touched her fingertips to his face, and then she lightly touched her lips to his lips. "You've done more for me today than…anyone ever has."

"He done more'n me," Daryl said. "He gave her to you to start with."

"Shhh…that doesn't matter," Carol said, pressing her lips softly to Daryl's again. "You gave her back to me because you wanted to…you wouldn't give up on her."

"Wouldn't," Daryl confirmed. "Couldn't."

"I love you so much," Carol breathed out.

Daryl's throat ached—this time not because of the pressure that had been placed on his windpipe.

"Love you more, woman," he offered.

"Oh—you can't," Carol said, a quiet giggle barely escaping her as her fingertips rubbed gently and affectionately at Daryl's temple. "But—I'll let you think you can because it makes you happy."

Daryl shifted enough to hug her closer to him.

"You make me happy," he said.

"You make me happy," she echoed.

"I'm glad she's back," Daryl said. "Safe an' whole."

"She said you taught her how to stay safe," Carol said.

"I just give her some tips," Daryl said. "She's like her Ma. Strong."

The soft kiss pressed to his lips, this time, wasn't enough. Daryl moved his face forward to request more and his wife indulged him. She allowed the long, lazy kiss that they kept up between quick breaths for air. He could have kissed her like that for hours. He could have fallen asleep in her arms, happily kissing her. He almost did.

His yawn broke them up and Carol kissed his face.

"Sleep," she said, her voice almost lulling him to do just that.

"She ain't been scared? Had no nightmares?" He asked, fighting it for a moment longer to simply hold her in his arms.

"No," Carol said. "She hasn't woken up. But…"

"But?" Daryl pressed.

"I had a dream where…there was something going on," Carol said. "I thought you were angry. But then—I guess I woke up."

Daryl laughed quietly.

"Or went back to sleep," he said. "I think I mighta threatened to kill everyone."

"What?" Carol asked.

"They tried to kill Andrea," Daryl said. He tightened his hold on Carol when she stirred to move. "Shhhh…shhhh…it's OK. She's OK. I mean—what I meant was, I thought they tried to kill her. Thought they had killed her…or good as."

"What the hell are you talking about, Daryl?" Carol asked. Daryl didn't loosen his hold on her and, after a moment, she settled back down loosely in his arms.

Daryl sighed.

"You're O blood, ain't you?" Daryl asked. Carol hummed at him. "If anybody comes askin' for your blood, you tell 'em to go straight to hell. And—if they try to take it anyway? You tell 'em—I'ma be the damned one that sends 'em there. First fuckin' class."

"Shhhh," Carol soothed. "Calm down. What are you talking about?"

"Somethin' goin' on with that kid," Daryl said. "So, I guess they're harvestin' blood 'fore they start harvestin' organs or whatever. Took too damn much of Andrea's."

Carol squirmed again, and Daryl tightened his hold on her just enough to keep her there.

"Is Aunt Andrea alright?" Sophia asked, her voice groggy.

"Damn it," Daryl muttered. He raised his voice above the whisper he'd been using—or at least trying to use. "Didn't mean to wake you up, Sophia. Aunt Andrea's gonna be fine. She's alright. She's sleepin' now. You go on back to sleep."

"They gave her blood back?" Sophia asked.

"She's fine, sweetheart," Carol assured Sophia.

"Is Carl OK?" Sophia asked.

"Gonna be fine," Daryl said. "Don't worry about it, Sophia. Go on back to sleep. We'll talk about it more in the morning."

"Mama—they aren't going to hurt you?" Sophia asked.

"Nobody's hurtin' anybody," Daryl said.

"Aunt Andrea…" Sophia said.

"Nobody's hurtin' her no more, neither," Daryl said.

"Sweetheart, it's OK. Everybody's OK," Carol soothed. She rolled away from Daryl long enough to soothe Sophia. "It's all OK. You'll see her in the morning. Just—close your eyes, baby. Get some sleep. It's all OK. I'm here and…Daddy's here…"

"Aunt Andrea…" Sophia said, her voice softer this time, like she would be sleeping again soon.

"Woulda brought her with me, but there weren't quite enough room for her in this here bed," Daryl teased. "So, we got her another bed. She's sleepin'. You gotta sleep, too."

"You'll see her in the morning, sweetheart," Carol soothed again.

Daryl practically held his breath. He guarded silence as Carol soothed the little girl back to sleep—a little girl that, whether she admitted it or not, Daryl knew had been through a harrowing experience.

When Sophia was settled, Carol rolled back to face Daryl. In the darkness, her fingertips found his lips again before her lips did.

"You sleep too," Carol said, her fingers rubbing the hair at his temples. "It's OK. We're all here, and we're all safe. You sleep."

"You gonna put me to bed like Sophia?" Daryl asked, his hand ghosting down her back. As it reached her ass, he pulled her body flush against him. It was the closest he could be to her with Sophia sleeping next to him, but at least he could feel her body against him for a moment.

"I'll take care of you, too," Carol said. "Just like you take care of us. Close your eyes."

Daryl did close his eyes. He closed his eyes, and he focused on the soft rhythmic touches of her fingers as they gently brushed against his skin. His whole body relaxed under her touch. He felt her body comfortable against him, and he drank in the smell of her. He felt wrapped in comfort and, even in a stranger's house, he felt at home. She had that effect on him.

And, somehow, he slowly slipped away and floated into a deep, dreamless darkness.